


Every Frelling Planet

by DarkAndDeep



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 08:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAndDeep/pseuds/DarkAndDeep
Summary: "....  It's just the irony of it all....  Had my ass chased across the galaxy...now it's D's turn."





	Every Frelling Planet

  
  
Three figures ran across the open fields through the fading light of dusk.  The primary sun had set, leaving only the tiny, distant red dwarf that orbited half a light year away to cast a dim, ominous glow on the landscape.  
  
The trio rushed into a large stone structure and braced the door firmly behind them.  The smaller of the two men in the group leaned down to brace his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath.   The other two seemed hardly winded.  
  
"D'Argo," John Crichton gasped out.  "Who the hell did you piss off this time?"  
  
"What makes you think I did anything?"  
  
Aeryn snorted.  "Aside from the fact that a very large alien man is chasing you?"  
  
D'Argo grunted acknowledgement, then shrugged.  "I was attempting to be polite."  
  
"To who?  The guy chasing us?"  John stood up finally, able to breathe at last.  
  
"No..."  
  
"D'Argo?"  
  
"To his daughter."  
  
John tried to hold it in for a few microts, but it was impossible.  He laughed, loud, hard and long.  He ended up collapsed onto the floor and giggling at the sheer insanity of the situation.  
  
Aeryn, on the other hand, was looking at both men in annoyance.  "This is not helping the situation, John."  
  
Crichton once again struggled to catch his breath.  "I know...I know....  It's just the irony of it all....  Had my ass chased across the galaxy...now it's D's turn."    
  
D'Argo growled and sat down against a support post to sulk.  
  
Aeryn rolled her eyes, her entire demeanor screaming, "Men!" while she gazed upwards as if praying for strength, with which to beat the two of them to death.  
  
"So, how long do you think we need to hide out, Sundance?" John asked.  
  
"Until the second sun goes down," she replied, professionalism winning out over pique.  "Once it's fully dark, we'll make our way back to the transport pod."  
  
"And hopefully Moya will be over her morning sickness, or whatever that was, and be ready to starburst the hell out of here."  
  
"Pregnant leviathans are a pain in the eema," D'Argo offered.  
  
"Can't argue that, but Pilot said it would be over soon."  
  
"Good."  D'Argo went back to silent sulking.  
  
Aeryn blew out a breath, almost a sigh, then looked around their sanctuary.  It was a large structure, mostly open inside, with bundles of plant material stacked against the far wall and a few enclosures with local domestic animals.  "We need windows," she muttered.  "We need to keep watch."  
  
"Sorry, Aeryn," John said, almost contritely.  "I wasn't exactly thinking strategy when I pointed it out."  
  
Suddenly, Aeryn held up a hand for silence.  D'Argo, too, looked up and froze, alerted by some sound still too faint for John's human ears to detect.  
  
"Someone's coming," Aeryn announced, unnecessarily.  
  
"D'Argo!" John hissed.  "Hide!"  
  
"What?"  D'Argo's affronted voice was just slightly too loud, leading the other two to shush him harshly.  "I won't--"  
  
"D'Argo," Aeryn stated in her flattest Peacekeeper tone.  "You are the target.  Get out of sight, and we may be able to resolve this without violence."  
  
D'Argo grumbled and muttered rebelliously, but the snap of a twig outside the door, combined with the double-barreled glare of his two companions, finally won his cooperation.  He concealed himself as well as he could behind one of the animal enclosures, though John wasn't sure his bright colored clothing wouldn't give the whole thing away.  
  
A single crashing thump and the splintering sound of wood broke the silence at that instant, and John and Aeryn looked up to see a huge alien man, larger even than D'Argo, with a torch in one hand and a nasty-looking club in the other, standing over the remains of the door.   
  
"Where he?" the lumbering figure roared.  
  
"Who?" John replied, putting on his best innocent look.  
  
"Man who defiled daughter!"  
  
Aeryn stepped forward, her slighter form looking almost petite next to this behemoth.  "We haven't seen anyone.  What did this man do?"  
  
"Touch daughter with lips.  Must kill to restore honor!"  
  
John snorted.  "He kissed her?  That's all?"  
  
The huge man looked puzzled.  Apparently the word didn't exist in his language.  "Sullied her hand with dirty lips.  Who mate her now, with dirty hand?"  
  
This time John couldn't hold in a sharp guffaw.  "He kissed her _hand?_   Good God, man, even the Victorians allowed that!  At least he didn't use his tongue!"  
  
The towering figure growled menacingly, then paused, bringing the torch closer to John's face.  "Know you, don't I?"  
  
"Oh, frell," Aeryn muttered.  
  
"No, I'm sure you're mistaken," John dissembled, nervously.  Being recognized was usually very bad.  
  
Thankfully, the slower wits of their opponent worked in their favor.  He looked puzzled for a moment, then shrugged.  "Must find dirty son of--"  The string of curses quickly degenerated past the point where John's microbes could keep up.  
  
Apparently, though, they worked better on someone raised with them than they did for someone given them in adulthood.  After a few microts of increasingly heated and staccato phrases, D'Argo apparently couldn't take it anymore.  He rose to his feet with a roar.  "How dare you, you--" and once again, D'Argo proved his mastery of multi-lingual cussing.  
  
The angry father roared at the sight of his prey and started forward, raising his club.  John stepped into his path and aimed a punch at about chest height.  
  
His own chest height, that is, which corresponded roughly to the level of the alien giant's gonads.   
  
There was a high screech, and John found himself hurled across the length of the barn by a wildly flailing club.  He landed, fortunately, in a pile of alien straw, bruised and breathless but otherwise unharmed.  He heard sounds of a struggle, a soft thud, and silence.  
  
"John?"  Aeryn's worried voice carried across the open space.  
  
Crichton coughed and managed to gasp out, "Here!"  
  
Within microts, John felt himself being pulled to his feet by strong arms. Aeryn lifted his chin to look him in the eyes.  "Are you injured?"  
  
John coughed again, wincing at the pain in his ribs.  "Don't...think so.  Gonna hurt for a while, though.  What happened with Daddy Dearest?"  
  
D'Argo smiled.  "You managed to make him drop his club.  I borrowed it."  
  
John chuckled, wincing again.  "Good man, D."  
  
Aeryn slung one of John's arms over her shoulder and supported him as they stumbled toward the exit.  "Not good enough to keep his hands off of every woman to cross his path," she pointed out, her voice disgruntled even though her mouth was smiling.  
  
"Ah, well," John sighed.  "Getting in trouble with alien chicks comes naturally to him, I suppose."    
  
The taller man blushed to the roots of his dark hair.    
  
John reached up and patted his 19-year-old son on the shoulder.  "Gets that from his old man, don't ya know!"  
  
  



End file.
